Chapter Nine
“For heaven’s sake, you cannot continue like this.”
“I merely rose too quickly,” she protested, though she could not quite suppress a shiver at his proximity.
His riding coat was damp from the rain, and his cravat had come further loose, lending him an unusually dishevelled appearance that she found unexpectedly appealing.
“You are exhausting yourself,” William said firmly. But his hands were gentle as he steadied her, and something in his expression made her heart flutter. “You cannot help others if you fall ill yourself.”
Thunder rolled overhead, and Charlotte jumped slightly, pressing closer to him without conscious thought.
His sharp intake of breath made her suddenly, acutely aware of their position – alone in the stillroom, standing far closer than propriety strictly allowed.
Even for husband and wife, it really wasn’t done to appear so close when others might easily come upon them.
She ought to step away. She knew she ought to.
But William’s hands still rested warm at her waist, and when she dared to look up, the expression in his grey eyes stole her breath entirely.
For a long moment, neither of them moved.
The rain drummed against the windowpanes, creating a curtain of sound that seemed to separate them from the rest of the world.
Charlotte could feel the steady rise and fall of William’s chest, could catch the faint scent of sandalwood and rain-dampened wool that clung to his coat.
“You must take better care of yourself,” he said finally, his voice pitched low enough that she felt it rumble through her more than heard it. “I cannot... that is, Alverton cannot afford to have its Duchess fall ill.”
The slight stumble in his usually precise speech, combined with the way his hands tightened fractionally at her waist, sent warmth spreading through Charlotte’s chest. She knew that she ought to step away, to restore the proper distance between them – Mrs Walden might return at any moment - yet something in his expression held her motionless, caught in a moment that felt both dangerous and precious.
“I assure you, I am perfectly well,” she managed, though her voice emerged less steady than she might have wished. “Just a moment’s dizziness, nothing more.”
William’s expression shifted, concern warring with something deeper that made her heart race.
“You push yourself too hard,” he said quietly. “I have watched you these past weeks, tending the sick, managing supplies, supporting those in need... You show more strength than I had thought to find in one so young.”
The admission, delivered in that deep voice that never failed to affect her, made Charlotte’s breath catch.
“I only do what duty requires,” she replied, unconsciously echoing his own frequent refrain.
“No.” His response came swift and certain. “You do far more than duty demands. You give of yourself without reservation, without concern for your own welfare.” His hands flexed slightly at her waist, as though he struggled with some inner conflict. “It is admirable, but also... concerning.”
Lightning flickered beyond the windows, illuminating his face in brief, bright flashes.
Charlotte found herself studying the strong lines of his features, noting how his usual stern expression had softened into something more vulnerable.
The usually perfectly tied cravat had now become so loose that it revealed a glimpse of his throat, lending him an intimacy of appearance which she had never seen before.
“You cannot ask me to do less,” she said softly, daring to meet his intense grey gaze. “Not when you do so much, not when there is so much need.”
“I begin to think that I cannot ask you to do anything other than what your conscience dictates,” William replied, a note of rueful admiration entering his voice. “You are proving quite impossible to manage, madam.”
Despite the formality of the address, his tone held warmth that made Charlotte’s heart flutter.
“Perhaps,” she suggested, surprising herself with her own daring, “you might consider managing with me rather than attempting to manage me?”
Thunder crashed overhead, making her start again.
This time, William’s response was to draw her fractionally closer, as though the desire to protect her overrode his usual careful propriety.
The motion brought them near enough that Charlotte could see the individual droplets of rain that still clung to his coat, could feel the warmth radiating from his body.
“I am not accustomed to shared authority,” he admitted quietly. “My responsibilities... the weight of Alverton’s needs... I have borne them alone for so long.”
“You need not bear them alone any longer.” Charlotte heard the slight tremor in her own voice and prayed that he would attribute it to fatigue rather than their unprecedented proximity. “We are partners in this, are we not? Or at least, we could be, if you would allow it.”
The look he gave her then stole her breath entirely – something dark and warm and full of possibilities she dared not name. For a moment, she thought he might say more, might even...
But a knock at the stillroom door broke the moment. They separated swiftly, propriety reasserting itself as Mrs Walden entered with an armful of fresh linens.
“Your Grace,” the housekeeper addressed William, though Charlotte did not miss her quick glance between them, “Mr Phillips tells me that some urgent correspondence requiring your attention has arrived.”
“Of course.” William’s voice had resumed its usual measured tones, though something in his eyes when he looked at Charlotte suggested that their conversation was not entirely finished. “You will rest now?”
The words were half question, half command.
“I shall remain here and complete the inventory,” Charlotte replied, summoning a small smile. “Seated, as you insist.”
He studied her for a moment longer, then nodded briefly. Yet as he turned to leave, his hand brushed against hers in a touch too deliberate to be accidental.
“We shall speak more of this partnership you propose,” he said quietly. “Later.”
Charlotte watched him go, her hand tingling where his fingers had touched it. Only when his footsteps had faded did she realise that Mrs Walden was watching her with knowing eyes.
“The rain has quite ruined His Grace’s cravat,” the housekeeper observed blandly. “Most unlike him to appear so... informal.”
The slight emphasis she placed on the last word made Charlotte’s cheeks warm.
“The weather is quite inclement,” she managed.
“Indeed, it is, Your Grace.” Mrs Walden’s tone held volumes of meaning as she began organising the linens. “Indeed it is.”
The rain continued throughout the afternoon, drumming against the windows as Charlotte completed her inventory under Mrs Walden’s watchful eye.
Though her hands remained steady at their task, her mind kept returning to that moment with William – the unexpected gentleness in his touch, the warmth in his grey eyes, the way that his customary reserve had softened into something far more dangerous to her peace of mind.
“Your Grace should take supper in her sitting room this evening,” Mrs Walden suggested as the daylight began to fade. “After such an exhausting day...”
“No,” Charlotte said quickly – perhaps too quickly, for the Housekeeper’s knowing look returned. “That is, I am quite recovered. There is no need to disrupt the usual arrangements.”
In truth, the thought of missing their evening meal together made her heart sink. These quiet dinners had become precious to her, offering glimpses of the man that William might become if he would only let down his careful walls.
When she entered the dining room that evening, however, she found the Duke’s place empty. Disappointment warred with concern until Phillips appeared at her elbow.
“His Grace sends his apologies, Your Grace,” the butler informed her. “He was called to the home farm on urgent business. But he left this for you.”
‘This’ proved to be a note, written in William’s bold hand on his personal stationery. Charlotte’s fingers trembled slightly as she opened it.
My dear Charlotte,
Duty calls me away this evening, much against my inclination. Pray do not wait supper – you must maintain your strength, as we discussed. I trust you will keep your word about resting.
There is a matter of some importance I wish to discuss with you. Perhaps you might join me in the library after breakfast tomorrow? I find myself increasingly convinced of the wisdom of your words regarding partnership.
Until then, I remain, Yours, William
Charlotte read the note twice, her heart beating faster at his choice of closing. Not the formal ‘Your humble servant’ that propriety dictated, but that simple, intimate ‘Yours’. And that reference to partnership...
“Shall I serve supper, Your Grace?”
Peters’ carefully neutral tone reminded her of her surroundings.
“Yes, thank you.”
Charlotte tucked the note into her dress pocket, though its words seemed to burn through the fabric against her skin.
Later, in her sitting room, she found herself unable to concentrate on her correspondence. The day’s events kept replaying in her mind – William’s unexpected assistance in the stillroom, his strong hands steadying her, the look in his eyes when she’d spoken of partnership.
Something was changing between them, something that both thrilled and terrified her. The cold, pragmatic marriage she’d resigned herself to was becoming something else entirely. But what that something might be, she hardly dared contemplate.
A tap at her door revealed Sarah with the evening’s hot water. As her lady’s maid helped her prepare for bed, Charlotte caught sight of herself in the pier glass. Her cheeks held more colour than they had in days, and her eyes seemed brighter somehow.
“Will there be anything else, Your Grace?” Sarah asked as she turned down the bed linens.
Charlotte’s fingers strayed to the side table where William’s note lay.
“No, Sarah. That will be all.”